


to those we've lost (and who we shall soon find)

by somefinditodd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Doctors!AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somefinditodd/pseuds/somefinditodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few one shots with Clarke and Lexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Nemeses and On Call Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are doctors.

Morning rounds starts at precisely 5.30am that day. Their assigned senior attending, Anya would be standing by the first room of the day by 5.15am with her signature scowl.

Clarke gets there at 5am, with a small resistance for her eyes to open and a small drag to her feet as she walks.

Though her current state of appearance might state otherwise, she is proud to be early, managing a weak grin into the somewhat revolting cup of coffee she grabbed. It had that horrible, generic hospital coffee smell and taste but the combination of the scalding temperature and bitterness against her tongue helps to wake her.

Clarke feels great.

Today will be a great day.

She can feel it.

She woke up in time, she’s wearing pants this time and she’s early.

“Griffin.”

Not early enough.

It was Lexa Woods, standing almost robotically and regarding Clarke with that glare. Before this goes any further, she should explain why her morning is suddenly ruined by the 10 second exchange with Lexa Woods.

Why her morning is suddenly ruined by the 10 second exchange with Lexa Woods:

  1. She looks so much more put together than Clarke. Hair styled in intricate braids without a single strand out of place. _Check_. Freshly pressed pair of scrubs without a single visible wrinkle. _Check_. Flawless looking face that makes other people unable to identify if she’s wearing makeup or she woke up looking like she just finished shooting a commercial for some type of face product. _Check_.

  2. Whatever coffee she is holding smells magnificent. Clarke isn’t sure where it came from but, in comparison, the drink the blonde is holding is basically sewage water compared the the content of Lexa’s cup. How the hell she got there earlier, and somehow had time to wait for her personal barista to finish her coffee is a wonder.

  3. Finally (and most importantly) Clarke Griffin considers Lexa Woods to be her arch nemesis. She’s not sure if it’s intentional or some sort of cosmic joke but since they were assigned as residents they’ve constantly butted heads about almost every case they have together.




“The patient is Finn Collins. Male. 24 years old. Brought in a few days ago with a laceration on his abdomen…”

The patient greets them with a friendly smile, more jolly than one may expect from someone who came in a few days ago with a knife sticking out of his gut.

“We’re just monitoring him as a standard procedure post-op. Making sure his vitals are fine.” Anya’s eyes scanned through his chart as the group of residents listen eagerly.

“And then I can go.” He drawls out with a smirk.

“And then you can go.” Anya echoes back with a rare smile. “Next,” She turns to exit the room with the rest of the group in her beckon.

“Good morning, princess.” Finn calls out to Clarke, who scoffs lightly before exiting the room. That was also a thing with working in the hospital, most of the patients who haven’t seen sunlight tend to flirt.

“I don’t like him.” Lexa mused quietly as they made their way to the next patient.

“Is there anyone you actually like?” In a rare moment of civility, Clarke decides to indulge the other girl. Because today is going to be a good day and nothing can ruin it.

The soft “not you” is followed by a laugh at the blonde’s affronted look.

Today is going to be a good day.

It turns out to be a terrible day.

* * *

 

Clarke scowls herself to sleep. Stupid Lexa with her stupid smartass face. At least she could get a few hours of rest, providing there aren’t any urgent cases during the night. Her body just barely gets to that wonderfully weightless state between consciousness and unconsciousness when she feels a shift next to her on the (somewhat very uncomfortable) bed. The space is small enough for a single person, but apparently the mystery uninvited bed occupier believes otherwise.

“Um,” Clarke manages awkwardly, she is tired and sleepy. “What the hell are you doing?” She shifts to face the intruder to come face to face with, and it feels almost appropriate for the sound of drumroll to fade in and really just push that nail in the coffin on how unlucky she is. Of course.

The room is dark, save for the small sliver of light from outside. But it’s enough for her to recognise the features and those eyes, looking at her like _she’s_ the one who just climbed into someone else’s bed uninvited.

“Trying to get some sleep.” And really, if Clarke had any energy left for such luxury, she would grab her pillow to suffocate the other girl.

“I meant what the hell are you doing in my bed?”

“This isn’t your bed. It’s the hospital’s bed.” The pillow thing seems more tempting by the second.

“As you can see, it’s kind of occupied right now. Could you maybe sleep somewhere else?” There’s a very distinguishable tone of irritation in her voice, but it was very polite in her head. It’s getting a little difficult to focus with Lexa’s face so close to hers, and her gaze unwavering and bold.

“Everywhere else is full.”

“There’s a couch on the resident’s lounge-”

“I don’t want to sleep on the couch.”

“And you’d rather squeeze in here with me?”

“The couch is uncomfortable.” The girl frowns, and maybe if she wasn’t being stubbornly disregardful of the situation Clarke might find it adorable. “And I saw Bellamy Blake drop a meatball on it last week.” Clarke rolls her eyes, it does sound like something Bellamy would do. “Plus, this on call room is right next to the patient’s room. It’s the most logical choice.”

“You are literally on top of me, I don’t see how this is logical.” She realises how she has shifted forward somehow, knees brushing against Lexa’s thigh. And she swears she saw a smirk but dismisses it to a combination of the darkness and her hazy not-completely-awake state. She has no other choice but sigh in resignation when the other girl gave no sign of either responding or leaving.

“Fine.” Clarke scoots away and towards the wall, escaping from Lexa’s warmth.

She feels another shift from behind. And then the sound of even breathing.

Clarke goes to sleep thanking god that at least the other girl doesn’t snore.

* * *

 

“Clarke! I-”

Clarke sits up from her position so fast her head bumps to the wall with a small thud. It’s Raven by the door looking at her like she grew a second head. She is confused for a second until she follows Raven’s eyes glancing at the space next to her. Where Lexa is still somehow sleeping.

“I can’t even say I’m surprised.”

“What are you- This isn’t what it looks like. I mean obviously, since we’re both wearing clothes.” The rambling is not helping and neither is the position that they are currently in.

Sometime during the night, they must have shifted because Lexa’s leg is draped over hers and she can feel a hand that isn’t hers resting on her waist. Clarke attempts a not so gentle nudge to wake the girl up. Lexa’s slumber continues.

“Though I did think you guys would spend a bit more time bickering and glossing all that unresolved sexual tension.” Raven has taken the liberty of sitting on the edge of the bed, causing a shift on the mattress. “Are you sure she’s still alive?” She pokes Lexa’s ankle, prompting a groan and the arm around Clarke’s waist to pull her closer.

“Oh my god.” Clarke disentangles herself hastily as Raven proceeds to laugh.

"I owe Octavia 20 bucks."

 ****  
  



	2. The Flipcup Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are high school students.

“Lexa has a crush on you.” Octavia Blake announces casually over a mouthful of salad, sliding next to a bewildered looking Raven to sit across Clarke.

The blonde freezes. She can’t deny knowing who Lexa Woods is. She’s the captain of the highly coveted soccer team, somehow manages to overachieve academically and be one of the most beautiful girls in their school. “But in a totally terrifying kind of way.” Bellamy had observed one afternoon when he and Clarke sat in the library for a project and spotted Lexa surrounded by books, typing furiously in the corner. Clarke remembers admiring the girl’s furrowed look of concentration and the way her reading glasses had rested on her face in an adorable, non-captain-of-the-soccer-team way.

“…And _you’re_ the one telling me because…” She retorts hastily, somewhat afraid the other girl can see the flashback in her mind.

“Because the whole puppy pining act is annoying. It wasn’t as bad before, but you must’ve shortened your skirt or something because her head is not in the game.”

“Okay, High School Musical. You need to lighten up.” Raven interferes, somehow managing to sound both harsh and monotonous. Clarke can see the little strain in her neck that serves as a general indicator to her friend’s current temperament.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Do you like her?”

“I’ve never spoken to her.”

“Our parents are out of town this weekend—“

“How convenient.”

“—Bell wants to have a small ‘get together’.” Octavia rolls her eyes, both at Raven’s comment and remembering how absurdly her brother had worded it. “You don’t have to come.” She says, mostly directed towards Raven. “But this is me inviting you.” This time she glances at Clarke before grabbing her tray and darting out of the table.

* * *

 

Clarke decides to come to the party. Not because she felt somewhat vaguely threatened by Octavia Blake. Definitely not because she wanted to see Lexa Woods. But because Bellamy Blake is one of her best friends and one of the numerous rules of being best friends with someone is that you attend their party when their parents make the wrong decision of leaving the house for a prolonged period of time. It’s one of the rules somewhere.  

And that is how they got here, Clarke eyeing a questionable looking concoction in her cup next to Raven scowling in turns between her drink and Octavia Blake.

“I’m getting a really weird vibe between you two.” Clarke observes.

“If by ‘vibe’ you mean a ‘white hot rage of anger’.”

“I don’t understand why you hate each other.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t approach Lexa, but I figured that was none of my business.”

The blonde feels a blush creep in her cheeks, her gaze landing towards the girl seated in the middle of the room. There Lexa sits surrounded by a group of people, telling some sort of story. It must be a great story, too, since most of the group seem to immerse themselves to the girl who articulates gracefully with her hands.

Clarke feels her legs move with very little grace, mostly because she is being directed by Raven’s not so gentle nudge. “Clarke!” Bellamy’s voice booms from the stairs.

He all but topples towards her, his hair all moppy and wild plastered on his completely inebriated face. “My friend, Clarke.” He states proudly to no one in particular, smothering said friend in a bear hug. She smiles fondly, wondering how strong the substance on her cup actually is. “Are you having fun?” He asks after finally loosening his grip.

“So much fun.” She hopes it sounds as enthusiastic as her effort for it to sound, but the dramatic frown she receives indicates otherwise.

“She’s being wussy and avoiding Lexa like she’s a carrier of some really incurable disease.”

“Get out of here, Raven.” Clarke sighs, a part of her wishes Raven would go back to having weird, and mildly sexually infused glare battles with her arch nemesis. “I’m not avoiding her… we’re just not in the same wavelength.”

“Wavelength? Are you hearing yourself right now? What happened to the ‘Clarke Griffin Flipcup Princess’?” Clarke exchanges a look with Raven who grins ecstatically, they are both familiar with the stage of drunkenness that Bellamy is reaching. He, in turn, seems to have switched from a cuddly friend to a passionate political activist delivering a rousing speech to his people.

“Clarke Griffin, Princess of the Flipcup, doesn’t adhere to metaphorical social ideals like ‘wavelengths’. The Clarke Griffin I know marches up to get what she wants because that is the quality of a true Flipcup Champion. And I don’t want to admit defeat to someone who claims otherwise.” He looks down at them with a smirk, punctuating the conclusion of his speech by finishing his drink.

They don’t remember when, but at some point he has taken himself up a chair and gathered attention to most of the room. A scattered applause turns into a roar of cheers, no doubt not everyone is aware of why they are cheering but it’s fun.

Clarke can’t help but laugh. Her eyes instinctively drifts towards Lexa’s direction, who is looking back at her, before returning her attention to a conversation with the girl sat on the arm of the couch. Clarke and Raven help Bellamy descend from his makeshift stage, “How the hell did you even get up if you can’t go down by yourself?” her friend grumbles with a huff.

Clarke could only think about how she could've sworn she saw a small smile tugging at Lexa's lips. 

 

* * *

 

“Clarke Griffin.” The girl utters, despite her cup looking near empty there is a sense of clear solemnity in the way the syllables are pronounced. “You honour us with your presence… Or would you rather Flipcup Princess?” Lexa smirks at the groan of disapproval she gets in response, staring at her with half lidded eyes like she knows she is the reason for Clarke’s appearance (which she definitely isn’t).

“Captain.” Clarke retorts coolly, sliding on the unoccupied space next to Lexa. Up close she can see the brunette’s face in detail, startling green eyes regarding her with unsober curiosity. She briefly wonders if the girl knows how long she’s been staring. Definitely longer than appropriate. The atmosphere of the group seems to shift as the chatter quietens down to low murmurs, Clarke isn’t sure if there is a hush in the room or any peripheral noise just seems to dissolve as she and Lexa engage in a sort of heated staring contest. _No heated staring contests, Clarke._ _That’s Raven’s weird thing._

“You weren’t training on the field this afternoon.” Clarke observes, partly due to the fact that the silence that floated around them started to make her feel dizzy. As is the way Lexa raises her brows with what looks like an expression of delight.

“So you keep track of our practice sessions… “

“I don’t.” God, what a poor lie. “It’s very hard not to notice when you run around in those... shorts.” Excellent recovery. That didn't sound creepy at all. 

Another pause lingers, Clarke is looking down despite the feeling of Lexa's gaze from the periphery. 

“I heard a rumor,” The blonde starts again, feeling the heat from the alcohol slither in her throat to push words from her mouth more confidently that her non-alcohol affected self.

Instead of giving a verbal response, Lexa only nods patiently, waiting for her to continue. 

“I wanted to know if it was true or not…”

Lexa looks away, Clarke is thankful because then she won’t see the expression in face fall in disappointment. Does she know what she’s about to say? Maybe this has all been a joke of some sort and Octavia will pop out from behind the couch holding a camera as a twisted homage to Ashton Kutcher’s long finished television series. Except Lexa is looking down at her fingers and maybe she’s blushing or it’s another one of the many alcohol induced reactions of the night. Whatever it is, Clarke can’t help but find her adorable in this state that seems to contradict her usual demeanor.

“I do like you, Clarke.” Lexa looks up, and completely heart stoppingly gorgeous with the flush of her cheeks and the dilating pupils of her eyes. “If that’s what you mean.” She feels almost taken aback by how the girl manages to be blunt and somehow reserved.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Well, in these circumstances we generally figure out if we’re on the same wavelength.”

Clarke chuckles at the excellent use of terminology.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable high school!AU. It had to happen.


	3. We found each other in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke and Lexa are kind of messed up and Anya throws a dinner party.

The first time Lexa meets Clarke is in a dinner party hosted by Anya. The absurdity of that statement took Lexa a while to digest for a few reasons. First, Anya and ‘dinner party’ in the same sentence doesn’t quite equate. Maybe if someone was throwing random words around for fun like ‘dinosaur’ and ‘space’. But even the idea of dinosaurs in space is not as absurd as Anya hosting a dinner party.

Somehow through Anya’s incessant pleading and, when that proved unfruitful, minor threats of destruction, Lexa finds herself clutching a bottle of wine in her arms and staring rather intently at the door. Maybe if she stared hard enough it will open. She’s convinced for a millisecond that it does open from purely her will and undiscovered superpower and not Anya swinging the door with an exasperated expression.

“We’ve been watching you stand there for five minutes.”

As Lexa steps into the living room, partly embarrassed, and partly thankful that they can’t read her mind, she wonders who exactly ‘we’ comprised of. Anya nudges her shoulder purposely and gives a directed glance towards the couch.

“Clarke, this is Lexa.” She’s wearing a black dress and Lexa’s gaze seems to magnetically follow the hem that almost rides up her thigh. “Lexa, Clarke.” Anya’s voice brings her back to reality and she maybe feels mildly mortified to realize that Clarke has definitely noticed her staring, judging by the way the blonde raises a quizzical brow that almost seem accusatory.

Fuck. She averts her eyes, choosing to stare vacantly at the lit candle resting on the coffee table. Okay, Anya is _definitely_ not the candle type. Lexa briefly remembers the time her friend had scoffed in derision at the mere sight of the lone scented candle she had on her bathroom.

Is she trying to impress someone?

The way the pretty blonde—Clarke— lounges comfortably on the couch makes her wonder.

“It’s about time everyone got here.” A strange voice echoes from the kitchen. Light footsteps approach their way and a beaming brunette steps in view. The girl, also wearing a dress, looks intimidatingly beautiful but the smile on her face encourages ease. Lexa notes how Anya smiles (without any hint of sarcasm, either) fondly towards the brunette, stepping closer to rest a hand on her waist. “And this is Raven.”

Raven?

Raven.

Oh.

Lexa finds out that Clarke is a doctor ten minutes into the tense filled dinner. Not through a casual enquiry to start a conversation like normal human beings, but through Anya clearing her throat uncomfortably and stating, “Clarke’s a doctor.” All while looking directly across the table and towards Lexa.

Lexa knows that look.

And now the clattering of cutlery halts and she feels the heat from the invisible spotlight directed towards her.

“Oh?” Was the best she could manage, attempting to conceal a small glare towards her friend’s direction, who only smirks in response. Lexa mentally scribbles Anya’s name on her blacklist. Honestly, she is there quite a few times already.

“Yeah, she’s our pride enjoy. Earning those big bucks.” Raven chimes in with a smirk that almost rival’s her girlfriend’s. Surprise.  

Clarke takes a slow sip of her wine, licking the small remnants colouring her lips. “I’m still on the first year of my internship, so it’s really less glamorous than it sounds.”

“Still, you’re saving people’s lives. It’s very admirable, Clarke.” Lexa looks up to be met by eyes already seeking hers.

“Thank you.”

“You should feel really special too, Lexa. Clarke here has barely been out of her scrub suit let alone see any sunlight for the past couple of months, so you're like her first date in- ow!”

Things start to make a little more sense then. The weird formal vibe. The strategically placed seats. The fucking _candles_. It’s a setup.

It’s a while later, two glasses of wine sit lonely and polished and there is faint smell of dishwashing liquid lingering in the air.

The atmosphere has subsided and the room is filled with a sort of quiet. With Lexa’s chosen demeanor of silent brooding and Clarke alternating from taking small sips of wine and curiously gazing at Lexa.

If the wine was taken out of the equation she would probably be more subtle or discreet with her staring, but Lexa also seems to have some sort of magical ability to maintain a stoic expression while knowing that someone is watching her intently.

“So you really didn’t know about…” There is a hint of amusement on the blonde’s voice, but it is also quiet and careful, as if the wrong words would drive Lexa off. Which isn’t completely untrue.

“No.” Is the short, clipped response. It comes out colder than she wanted it to, but the other girl, surprisingly, looks more amused than before.

“Too bad. I’m a delight.”

“I don’t doubt you are.” Lexa responds dismissively but smiles nonetheless when it only earns a laugh from the other woman.

Anya and Raven can only sit across them and exchange looks.

The first time Clarke and Lexa kiss is after the dinner party thrown by Anya. The whole ‘dinner party’ by Anya thing had made sense by then since Anya spent most of the evening clearly smitten with Raven Reyes even though she seemed to try very hard (and fail exponentially) to mask it.

It turns out Clarke lives a couple of blocks away from Anya’s and was fond of walking. Lexa, addled by both the wine consumed and the length of Clarke’s dress, had expressed her mutual appreciation towards the act of walking and that’s how they ended up here.

‘Here’ is standing in front of Clarke’s house, unsure of the most appropriate way to say goodbye. A hug might be too intimate for people who’ve just met. Turning around and walking away seems too rude. But all of this thinking has lead to them just standing there facing each other for longer than whatever length is appropriate.

The way Clarke is looking at her with cheeks tinged from the cold night air makes her both nervous and… giddy. Lexa shifts her weight on both feet for a second, uncharacteristically unsure of what to do. So she chooses a safe option.

“Are you serious?” The blonde looks at her offered hand like it’s some type of offending weapon.

“I didn’t want to presume... I mean…” That glass of wine seems to have done more damage than previously suspected because she’s usually more eloquent than this. Then she is mesmerised by the woman’s eyes, pupils dilated underneath long fluttering eyelashes. “Your face is very close to mine.”

Clarke chuckles. Lexa didn’t even notice how much closer they have gotten, but it must be really close because she _felt_ Clarke’s chuckle vibrate against her body.

“It is.” The blonde purses her lips, catching Lexa’s attention. “Is that okay?”

Lexa’s minor hypnotic trance seems to be broken, she looks up again to meet hopeful eyes. She gives a slow, thoughtful nod and subconsciously leans closer towards the warmth of Clarke’s body.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Lexa likes to consider herself a responsible adult. She looks both ways before crossing the road. She uses her turn signal. She even recycles. So the logical part of her brain, the part that tells her to do these rational things screams at her that this might not be a good idea. But on the other hand, Clarke is so close to her. Really close. And the proximity seems to outweigh logic, because as soon as Clarke’s lips descend upon hers, everything else fades into white noise.

The kiss is slow, lips sliding gently against lips in a gentle, tentative way. A catch of breath and a small gasp of invitation, fingers slip beneath Lexa’s coat and tugs on her waist. Closer.

Lexa pulls away for a moment, taking delight in the way Clarke’s face follows hers. She can feel the heat spread along her body and consume her. This is stupid. Stupid beautiful woman with her face and her oddly erotic exhales against her neck. It all makes it very hard to think straight.

“Clarke.” The name comes out as a strangled moan and it seems to spur the other girl on because her lips have dropped down to her neck, lingering in that area that aids the short-circuiting of her brain. God, this is definitely not how she imagined the evening to end. Not the kissing and the closeness. Definitely not the moaning in the middle of what seemed like a very quaint suburban neighbourhood. “My girlfriend died.”

Suddenly the warm lips are gone, along with the warm fingertips playing with the hem of her shirt and the warmth of the body against hers. It’s just very cold now. And she is met by darkened blue eyes, wide and questioning.

Nothing like saying your girlfriend is dead to set up a romantic mood. 

“Okay…”

Then there is dead fucking silence.

Now she really has to say something. Because, while Clarke looks adorable with her flustered face and short exhales, she also looks like she wants to run away. Words. Make words come out.

“That's why Anya set us up... because my girlfriend is dead, so I can’t… I mean, I don’t,” It turns out the words that choose to come out are not very good at all because Clarke has stepped away completely. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get into a relationship right now.” There it is. Truth bomb dropped. She welcomes the light icy breeze to cool what Clarke has kindled, because whatever it was that was just happening is definitely not going to be continuing.

“Okay.” Lexa wonders if she has any other words in her vocabulary.

Another stretch of unsure silence.

“Lexa, I’m not asking you for a relationship here.” Clarke states clearly as if she hasn’t just been heavily making out with someone not less than a few minutes ago. It’s pretty impressive. “I didn’t invite you to come in to spend the rest of your life with me.”

“Oh.”

Clarke’s moans, while quiet and almost noiseless, are the only sounds that fill the room after the initial slam of the door and the following thud of Lexa’s back hitting said door. She basks at the cold tip of the blonde’s nose against her warming cheek, lips hovering along her jaw.

With their jackets discarded, a puddle of thick fabric on the floor, her hands lift themselves and tentatively rests and the curve of Clarke’s ass just grazing the fabric. She tenses when she feels the girl pause her hot breathed ministrations against her neck, then a chuckle is exhaled against her throat before she feels another pair of hands press encouragingly against hers.

“I’m not quite sure this is what Anya and Raven imagined.” Lexa manages to pant after what felt like a lifetime of kissing that left her breathless.

“Yeah, but this is more fun.”

Lexa could only nod in agreement before reattaching their lips. 


	4. May We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are Commander Lexa and Clarke of the Sky People.

_“May we meet again,”_ were here parting words. Though her eyes had no hope, there was a desperate promise behind them. Her words heavy as the burden that weighed on her shoulders as she turned to leave.  

They make it through Mount Weather somehow. It’s not winning, there is no victorious burst of light when it was all over or some sort of cue to alert them that it was actually over. All Clarke was able to do was look around and assess the damage. The deaths—oh, the deaths. Many of the soldiers that weep and mourned for the losses. Of the 47 trapped in the mountain, not everyone survived to leave.

Bellamy Blake exited all battered and bruised and so… tired. But he was alive. Octavia as she ran toward him, soaked with blood that was not hers and more blood that dripped from her blade. The sob that rippled from the back of her throat serves as a reminder that she was still just a _child_.

Jasper less like the person he was before. Not different or worse. Just less. Like a piece of him was chipped away. The part that was important to keep your humanity, to make it through all of this.

The next time they meet the tables have turned. The people of The Ark have become stronger through knowledge and numbers. They found other drop ships, hundreds of people who survived and marveled at the new world they’ve never experienced before. The beauty and danger that lingered around them, the same thing that made them feel more human than they ever have being on the Ark.

And they all looked to Clarke. Like she was some messiah that fell from the sky separately. Like she had all the answers because she seemed to settle onto the role automatically. She couldn’t even object if she wanted to. She was their leader. She was fierce and able to make tough judgments with the counsel of her mother (begrudgingly) and Kane (less begrudgingly).

With their growing number and more advanced outlook, it was inevitable that they would garner more attention. Some come in small gifts and offerings of peace by the nearby villages that promise prosperity. But some are not so friendly.

It was really inevitable that at some point they would meet again. Clarke seldom spent any time thinking about it, too occupied with running a camp of hundreds and power struggles within the council. Nights are a completely different matter; she spends them with shallow breaths and the feeling of blood soaking through her shirt, her skin. The kind that you can never really wash away.

“Heda sends her word.” Indra begins, behind her about a dozen or so grounders stand tall and just as intimidating as ever amongst weary looking guards.

“Her word doesn’t really mean a lot right now.” Raven says with a cold stare.

The grounder woman raises her hand to stop a few of her men from advancing to the small girl. “The land that your people are occupying are reaching the parameters of the Ice Nation. You may be unaware of this but the Ice Queen sees this as a threat, an act of offense.”

“Okay, so we back off.” Bellamy suggests eagerly. Though they know that if it were that simple, Indra and a small portion of the grounder army wouldn’t be there.

“You know as well as I that it is not that simple. From the moment that you fell from the sky and burned our people to the ground, the leaders have been weary of you. Some say you are far more dangerous than the Mountain Men. The only thing that settled them was the Commander’s reassurance, and with the coalition’s disintegration…”

“Again, not our fault.”

“Raven, you need to leave. Now.” Clarke commands, gaze never leaving Indra’s, who cannot help a very small shift in her expression that shows surprise when the girl complies (albeit with a deeply annoyed sigh) and exits the tent.

“What do you suggest?”

“The _Commander_ suggests a meeting with the leaders of the clans that wish to fight by her side.”

“She wants to help us?”

“She wishes your cooperation. The Ice Nation doesn’t only plan to attack your people. They plan on taking over Polis, the Ice Queen wants power.”

“What, she wants to overthrow the Commander?”

Indra looks down to hide a sliver of anguish from her eyes and gives a singular nod.

“So… she’s asking for our help?”

“She asks for our people to help each other.”

This time Raven isn’t there to make a snide remark.

* * *

 

Clarke doesn’t look at her. They stand directly in front of each other, the long expanse of the meeting table serves its purpose in stretching the distance further.

The tension was thick as the leaders filled the meeting room. Other grounders from different clans, distinct with their own different styles and markings stand stiffly. Lexa’s gaze doesn’t stray from Clarke’s direction, and Clarke never returns it.

They come into an agreement, each clan would send a small group of warriors to cover the base of the Sky people, an obvious initial target. They have the advantage of firearms scavenged from Mount Weather and a few explosives courtesy of Raven and Wick to be dispersed amongst each other. It takes a few more moments of heated discussion about which clans will have the explosives, trepidation over unfamiliar technology.

Clarke dreads the conclusion of the meeting, knowing fully well that Lexa is bound to call after her. She attempts to squeeze past a particularly herculean group of grounder warriors to no avail. But Lexa doesn’t say anything to stop her from exiting. And Clarke wonders if maybe she created this oddly fucked up idea in her head that Lexa will be on her knees begging for forgiveness as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

As Clarke lay on her makeshift bed, comprised of cloth and bits of fur, Lexa’s words echo in her ears.

_Love is weakness._

She wakes with a startle, a figure with impeccable stealth dances in the form of shadows. Before she has a chance to formulate a coherent thought, she feels the cold steel of a blade against her throat and a hand clamped to her mouth.

“The Ice Nation send their regards. You will come with us.”

And everything was black.

It’s really the shortest kidnapping in history. Clarke remembers her eyes fluttering briefly to commotion, panicked murmurs, the sound of feet squelching against the dampness of the ground and then everything fading out again.

“Clarke.” Lexa says her name in a way she is not allowed to. Her stoicism and royal elegance is minutely wavered by something that almost sounds like relief.

“Commander.” Comes the clipped response laced with grogginess that weakens the attempt to convey anger.

The Commander looks down for a moment as if to collect herself before waving off the healer that sat next to Clarke.

“So… they sent assassins.” The blonde muses with faux casualty, groaning at the thumping in her head when she tries to sit up.

“You need to rest.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“I didn’t anticipate they would send men to harm you. This is my doing.”

“I think the point of assassins are that you don’t see them.”

“Mockery-”

“-is not the product of a strong mind. Yeah, I know.”

She saw it before it was said. Maybe she’s discovered some type of unbridled psychic ability but the way the Commander took a breath just before her sentence to cover her hesitance. “I did-“

“No.” Clarke interrupted. The words she couldn’t bear to hear. “No. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that you had to do it.”

Lexa sighs deeply as if to exhale the words she wants to say rather than verbalizing them and sits on the small makeshift chair that was previously occupied by the healer. It’s an odd sight, the awkwardly low seat contrasts the straight posture of her spine and the elegant cross of her legs. It gives Clarke a weird sense of pleasure to see the woman look so uncomfortable below her.

The don’t speak anymore after that.

Clarke wakes up to Lexa resting her head on her hand with her eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written rather speedily, hence super contrived plot to make them meet again. Tell me your thoughts and feelings! :)


	5. Tomorrow, Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke is a time traveller.

_Clarke is 32, Lexa is 7_

__

She lands with a small thud, the feel of dirt and branches poking her bare skin and a small ringing in her ears. Green eyes peer at her with an inquisitive glint.

“What are you doing in our backyard?”

The first thing she realizes is that this is the youngest she’s seen the girl but she instantly notices the barely tamed wild curls and small purse of her lips, the small raise of her chin which will later develop into one with a full sense of regality that will have the ability to make grown men cry. Clarke worries for a second because this is someone she both knows and doesn’t really know.

She shifts her position, curling into her knees awkwardly.

“I… um,”

The brown haired girl waits patiently, inspecting the strange woman. Clarke is also worried about what Lexa’s parents have been doing because they clearly haven’t given the girl a stern enough “stranger danger” speech. That, or Lexa’s stubbornness has lead to foregoing it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the girl turning around and walking away, her little feet padding against the dried autumn leaves.

She’s probably gone to get her parents. Clarke panics and moves to stand but the girl is back with a bright pink blanket in her arms. Oh.

Clarke tugs, the ‘Hello Kitty’ print shifts around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The girl gives a small smile.

It’s a short visit. She is gone before either could say anything else.

_Clarke is 32, Lexa is 33_

“Where did you go?” Is quietly mumbled against her neck as she positions herself comfortably beneath the blankets.

“I went to you.”

“When?”

“You were really young in this one. Maybe 7 or 8?” Clarke says tiredly with fondness in her voice as her wife chuckles in realization.

“I always thought that was some sort of dream. No one believed I saw a naked woman in our backyard.”

__

_Clarke is 15, Lexa is 13_

__

The first time it happens Clarke freaks the fuck out. One day she is minding her own business, panicking about her classes and the future the next she is falling on her ass against the hardwood flooring of a teenage girl’s room.

“You look young.” Are the first words uttered by the girl sitting on her bed, book clutched in her hand.

“Thank you?” Clarke manages to blurt out dumbly, caught off guard by the casual tone.

“Really young.” She stands from her bed, bare feet softly padding against the floor. “How old are you?”

“What does that matter? Where am I?”

“How old?”

“I’m 15.”

The girl flips through the book in her hand and scans a page intensely before a smile tugs at her lips. “This is the youngest of you so far.”

 

_Clarke is 28, Lexa is 14_

“So you don’t want to tell me if we ever actually meet?”

Clarke pauses mid-bite of the sandwich prepared for her, one thing that seems to occur after travelling is that she’s always so damn hungry (a detail which Lexa seemed to have noticed) “We’re meeting right now, aren’t we?”

“But I mean in the same timeline. I know I’m older than you. So somewhere in the world is a 13-year-old Clarke who doesn’t just disappear after god knows how long.”

“It’s just… it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Lexa sighs.

“There are things that I know will happen. But telling you might ruin them.”

“Like spoilers?”

“Exactly.”

_Clarke is 25, Lexa is 16_

“I have to go out soon.” Lexa grins excitedly, handing Clarke a container of yogurt and a spoon before trying to subtly adjust her shirt in front of the mirror.

“Oh?”

“This girl from my class. We’re studying together at her house.” Lexa is a whirlwind of fast paced walking back and forth between her wardrobe and the bathroom.

Clarke smirks knowingly, because “studying together” at sixteen is the most transparently poor excuse concocted by teenagers.

Amidst the flurry, the brunette pauses to look at Clarke who is ungracefully licking the lid of her yogurt.

“What’s wrong?” The older girl asks with genuine concern that is only slightly dampened by the speck of yogurt on the tip of her nose.

Lexa shakes her head, wiping the girl’s nose before taking a seat next to her.

“Nothing.” She plops down on the bed, which causes a dramatic bounce. “I’m staying here.”

“Lexa, it’s okay to be nervous about a girl.” Clarke nudges her shoulder, which earns a small smile.

“No it’s not that… I mean, maybe it is a little. I want to stay here today because it might be years until I see you again. This girl, she’s here everyday. But you…”

It takes the great combined force of several deities for Clarke not to say anything that would compromise the future. The look in Lexa’s face makes her heart break a little.

The phone call to the girl isn’t as civilized as one may guess. Clarke tries her best not to listen, opting to focus on eating but it’s difficult not to hear the voice through the girl’s phone speaker and the way her face falls into a slight grimace.

“High school sucks.” Lexa’s face is buried under a pillow. “Girls _suck_.”

Clarke can’t help but laugh. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Lexa slowly raises her head to turn to the blonde.

“Do you,” Lexa hesitates for a moment as if contemplating her next words, “Do you have someone you like?”

“I do.”

“In your time?”

“In my time.”

“Oh.”

_Clarke is 18, Lexa is 19_

Clarke spots her immediately. At first she wonders if she travelled without noticing. But it feels so different this time, seeing the girl as a person more tangible than any she’s encountered feels like seeing her for the very first time.

She gets an urge to run to the her, all familiarities and knowing but something pulls her back. The thought that none of it is real, the dread of eyes staring back at her with no hint of recognition keeps her still.

“Clarke?”

Later, when she is stumbled back into the mattress of her bed with impatient fingers underneath her shirt and equally impatient sighs against her neck, she realises she’s not the only one who’s been counting down to this moment.

_Clarke is 20, Lexa is 21_

__

“So now you know things that I don’t know?” She asks, eyeing the the well worn notebook that rests on the table. It taunts her, this small thing has records of events that haven’t happened to her yet just a few inches within her reach.

Lexa smiles mischievously as she takes a drink.

“And you know what’s going to happen the next time I travel?”

She gets a slow nod in response, a small blush covering the girl’s cheeks.

“Well, that’s no fair.”  

_Clarke is 20, Lexa is 18_

“Clarke,” The girl smiles. Her childhood room is stripped and almost empty, neatly labeled boxes litter the space to serve as an obstacle course that Clarke manages to move through. “You’re here.” She breathes out like a sigh of relief.

She looks beautiful against the glow of the evening sun, the red of her dress against her skin. Clarke feels a rush in her chest knowing that soon they will meet-- really meet. Just a few more years…

“Happy graduation.” She grins at the flowers on the desk. “I wish I would’ve brought you a gift or something…” She quietly curses her in-timeline-Lexa for not giving her a heads up, knowing exactly when she would go.

Lexa shakes her head, running her hands through the curls of her hair before taking a tentative step towards the blonde. “There is something,” She starts, fingertips moving slowly up her arms. “Something I’d like.” Her voice wavers a little and her eyes look at Clarke with so much hope. And the initial response of her brain is _oh no_. Because she’s been with her Lexa enough to recognise that expression, that glazed look in her eyes and the way she’s breathing through parted lips.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” Lexa murmurs quietly, eyes flitting from her lips to her eyes for any signs of disapproval.

And, Clarke’s response of “this is so wrong” or “this is not a good idea” or even “this is wrong and not a good idea” don’t make it past her lips. Instead, it is a half nod because, to be fair, it really _isn’t_ fair with the way Lexa is looking at her and her hands have made it to the back of her neck.

Their lips meet in a slow and gentle kiss. It is a wonderfully odd experience because this is the first time this Lexa has kissed her but Clarke could count the hundreds of kisses she’s shared with the girl since they got together. She feels a slight shiver when the girl moans as she makes a move to rest her hand on her hips and captures her bottom lip.

“ _Clarke_...” She whines when Clarke switches her attention down to her neck, her collarbones.

She knows exactly how Lexa likes it and it works as a tremendous advantage.

_Clarke is 27, Lexa is 19_

“Do you have a husband?” Lexa murmurs as she peruses a textbook, with an unconvincing amount of disinterest laced in her voice. Clarke bites her lip to hide the smile she can feel forming.

“No.”

“A wife?”

Clarke stays quiet. Lexa grins.

**  
**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So time travel is cool but while writing this I had to pause and ask myself "is this too creepy?" on more than one occasion.


	6. Of Nemeses and On Call Rooms II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are doctors (again).

It starts with a sneeze. The quiet noise that escapes Lexa is both so sudden and unexpected that it almost knocks Octavia Blake off her seat.

“You okay?” The girl enquires, her nurse instincts take over as she raises a hand against Lexa’s neck with concern and feels the unusual burning of her skin.

“It’s just… allergies.” Lexa sniffles, a tint of redness covers her nose as she tries to move away from the other girl’s insistent touch.

Ever since that night at the on call room, Clarke Griffin’s friends have decided to take it within themselves to invade Lexa’s life as much as possible. Starting with Bellamy Blake cornering her in the locker room one day at the end of a particularly grueling shift.

“So, you and the Princess huh?”

Lexa sighs, both for her own personal exasperation and knowing how much Clarke had hated the nickname. But she doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever Raven told you-”

“Look, honestly I get it.” He raises his arms in mock surrender, the amused glint in his eyes indicates that he does not, in fact, get it. “It’s inevitable with all that bickering and sexual tension.” Bellamy takes a seat with a smug expression.

“Seriously why does everyone keep saying that?”

“I just wanted to say if you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to.” She can’t help the instinctive eye roll that the sentence elicits and huffs out a breath of laughter.

“That’s supposed to scare me?”

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll send Raven.” Lexa’s laughter ceases.

Lexa Woods is a medical professional, thus she has taken all necessary precautions to avoid this specific circumstance. She has her annual flu shot, makes sure to wash her hands almost religiously and has a structured exercise regimen. But it seems like she has come in contact with an assertively stubborn pathogen that pushed past her defenses. Maybe she should name it the Clarke Griffin. She laughs at her own joke before the act causes an irritation in her lungs and transforms into a series of coughs.

“Your girlfriend is sick.” Raven catches up to her in the lobby, impressively matching her quick strides as she makes way to their lockers to begin her shift.

“What?”

“Lexa. She’s been sneezing all day, like any type of communication we’ve had has been sneeze-filled: _‘Hey Lexa, did you get the labs for that patient?’_ Sneeze. _‘It’s a nice weather today, isn’t it?’_ Sneeze. _‘Are you and Clarke secretly dating?’_ Offended sneeze. And she keeps denying she’s sick.”

“Okay, first of all, she is not my girlfriend.”

“This is freaky, you sound exactly like her.”

“ _And_ second of all, we’re not even friends. So, I don’t care if she’s sick.” Clarke pulls her scrubs on with more force than necessary and slams her locker shut. No wonder she didn't immediately see the infuriating brunette smirking with her expensive coffee like she often does.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just leave her to it… sneezing all over the place… spraying her germs on our very susceptible patients…  like poor old Mrs Gomez.”

Oh, that is so low.

“Seriously?”

“Look, Clarke, I know you guys have a weird… thing going on. But she really doesn’t look well and her stubborn ass doesn’t want to listen to any of us. So given your… thing, I figured you’d be our best bet.”

"I'm doing this for Mrs Gomez."

"Sure."

* * *

 

“Clarke.” Clarke wonders how despite the hospital gown and the paleness of her face she can still exude a semi-glare.

“You’re sick.” She states in lieu of a proper greeting.

Lexa frowns but doesn’t deny it. “What brings you here?”

“Apparently I have to attend to you. Since everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“Oh, that.”

“Why do you think everyone’s so convinced?”

“For starters, we did kind of sleep together.”

“That was taken out of context.”

“You always seek me out.”

“I do _not_ seek--.”

“You’re here now.”

“Because I was told to.”

“Oh yes, you've always been one to do as they're told.”

Clarke makes a move to walk away before she hears it, low and quiet she almost feels like she imagined it:

“Wait. I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

No. She is definitely not allowed to say those words in that way that is kind of heartbreaking. And she’s definitely not allowed to look at Clarke with those pleading eyes. But the way her voice wavers from the usual confidence and firmness somehow tugs enough at her in a way that she can't explain. And maybe this is a side of the other girl that she's never really been exposed to, the vulnerable and open side that she doesn't show to many people.

"Who would you have to cuddle without me?" Lexa grins weakly.

Or maybe she's still the most exasperating person she's ever met.

Clarke sighs, dropping her shoulders before grabbing a folded blanket from one of the cupboards and walking towards the cushioned chair next to the bed.

“Clarke.” Lexa murmurs in a half dazed haze, hair plastered on her face and a very prominent pout on her lips. And she says her name in that oddly over-enunciated way that makes her heart flutter. It feels like an intrusion to see the girl like this and Clarke feels like this is a state Lexa would never allow herself to be seen. It is very hard not to find her adorable. But then her hands are stretched out and she’s mumbling Clarke’s name as she reaches for something.

Or rather, someone.

“Oh...no Lexa.”

She actually _whines_ in response. Who knew she was such a needy sick person?

Clarke sighs because she’s tired and somehow this girl has put her in the same situation _twice_.

"If you tell _anyone_ , I will end you." She glares half heartedly, lifting the blanket as the girl hums in approval before scooting to make room for her. The intended threat is made redundant by the closeness of their bodies and their knees touching from the small size of the bed. It's oddly familiar.

And that was that.

"Clarke?"

Except it wasn't.

"Lexa." She mutters with her eyes shut.

"Can you come closer?"

Blue eyes flutter open in response. She doesn't say anything, just proceeds to stare at the sick girl lying next to her. She wonders briefly if she'll remember this the next day, maybe they'll both feel embarrassed and pretend it didn't happen (again). Her mind was made up the moment she slipped on the bed.

Lexa seems to take the silence as permission because she starts to shift closer in what feels like slow motion. Until their thighs overlap, hands tentatively circling Clarke's waist. Her face moves so close, for a moment Clarke thinks she can almost feel her lips but it ends with Lexa's face burrowed on her neck, her even breaths sending a shiver down her spine.

There's this theory on patterns: that while the world is so large and complex, if  you look close enough you will be able to see them. It's observable in nature, microscopic images of snowflakes have complex shapes that form so beautifully. But, when Clarke Griffin wakes up that morning and finds herself part of a pattern, it is not a beautiful snowflake type of pattern.

"So, you guys are _definitely_ not dating, huh?" Raven's smirk is so wide it can be seen by alternate versions of them in a different galaxy. Clarke wonders if in that alternate universe, she's not in her current position. Maybe she could switch into that universe.

Again, Lexa remains sleeping against her, somehow her hands have found way beneath the sliver of skin beneath Clarke's scrubs and rests comfortably.

"Damn it, Clarke." Next to Raven, Octavia Blake sighs, fishing out a twenty dollar bill from her pocket and handing it to the smug girl.

Clarke lifts the blanket to encase both herself and a still sleeping Lexa.

  



End file.
